


to be free of him

by MaruruShipsIt



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: 3x09 spoilers, Angst, M/M, Season/Series 03, bro this was supposed to be for a kissfest why did i make it sad, i should've just like....done something cute. wtf., sad drabble that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25579489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaruruShipsIt/pseuds/MaruruShipsIt
Summary: Uhtred is not ready to be free of him just yet.
Relationships: Alfred the Great/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29
Collections: The Last Kingdom Fanfic Fest





	to be free of him

**Author's Note:**

> For the TLK Drabble-A-Thon @tlkfanficfest on tumblr! The prompt was to write literally anything with a kiss over 100 words and I...angsted.

He does not look like a king now.

That is all Uhtred can think as the two of them gaze steadily at each other from their opposite positions in the king's writing room with wet cheeks and wavering hearts. Alfred looks like a dead man, his skin pale and gaunt, his robes hanging off his bones like limp rags.

If the gods had come to Uhtred in a dream even one day ago and told him that he would be sitting at King Alfred’s table, holding his hand and weeping for the great man who clung to life like a spirit in his name, he would have spat in their faces and renounced his faith. Now, he sends them a silent prayer— _you are not his gods, but please_ , _I am begging you, I am not ready. Do not take him from me just yet._

Alfred twitches a tender smile at Uhtred from across the table, his eyes too soft for the warrior to handle. For so many years, that stormy gaze had been hardened with resentment and bitterness aimed at _him_ , always at him, glinting as harshly as the rocking waves of the sea. It had reminded Uhtred too much of the slave ship, because for decades he had been a slave to the crown of Wessex, hating every second of his servitude to a man he loathed to no measurable degree.

Now, the harshness has faded from Alfred’s eyes, leaving only a swirling pool of clear sky that pierces Uhtred to his softened core. He was always soft for the king, damn it, _always._

Sensing his turmoil, Alfred squeezes his hand with quiet reassurance, and another tear slips from Uhtred’s eyes. Thunder rumbles in the distance, or perhaps it is only the sound of Uhtred’s heart pounding hard in his chest as terror seizes him. The thought of Alfred leaving him—passing onto a world where he will be free of the unruly Danish warrior that challenged him at every turn—cuts deeper than any flesh wound. Looking at the king now, Uhtred fears that he will never be free of him, not now that he has righted his wrongs.

A thought flits through Uhtred’s head and he lifts Alfred’s hand to his lips on a whim, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of his palm. It is not enough. A kiss atop his palm is not enough. A kiss to his faintly thrumming pulse is not enough, would that Uhtred’s lips were enough to keep that pulse raging forevermore. If Alfred’s eyes were the sea, his heart has always been fire, enough to light all England. And now, it threatens to extinguish with his next breath.

Uhtred grazes his lips over every last inch of bare skin, memorizing it for when he is gone. No knuckle, no fingertip, no wrinkle in his palm is left untouched. Would that he could leave no part of Alfred untouched after this.

Uhtred hears of Alfred's death some time after the fact and he reaches out a hand as though to catch the king’s spirit before it departs. There is no answering brush of fingers over his hand, but he thinks he hears a voice whisper in his ear to take care of his son.

Uhtred weeps for his loss.


End file.
